Undeniably Yours
by Suppressing Fire
Summary: Hermione Granger never thought Harry and Ron would leave her behind. She never expected Draco Malfoy was a Veela. She never dreamed of how much he could grow or how much she could love him. She could never imagine all they would have to give up. 7th year AU. Veela!Dramione.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Hermione Granger never thought Harry and Ron would leave her behind. She never expected Draco Malfoy was Veela. She never dreamed of how much he could grow or how much she could love him. She could never image all they would have to give up. 7th year AU. Veela!Dramione.**

 **A/N: I know the story starts off angsty, but I'm fairly sure it will eventually disintegrate into mostly fluff with a side of plot-line. It takes place during their 7th year at Hogwarts; Harry and Ron left to fight Voldemort and left Hermione. Assume that the Muggleborn Registration Commission hasn't banned her from attending Hogwarts, and that nobody is openly hunting Hermione down for being muggleborn (although there are definitely still some bigoted jerks to hate on). Anyway, all rights go to JKR. Please review :)**

 **Chapter 1**

Unbeknownst to the petite brunette casually flitting through the dusty aisles of spell books, a pair of cold grey eyes trailed after her, silently observing her motions as she tottered on tip-toes to reach a particularly thick tome from the upper shelf. After several small hops, Hermione Granger, still unable to grasp the book, sighed and continued down the row, humming softly to herself as she made her way to her favourite corner of the Hogwarts library. As Hermione sunk into the worn leather chair, settling down to read the first of many novels in her sizeable stack, her follower ducked out of sight, unwilling to let himself be seen in the presence of such unfit company and certainly not in such a degrading capacity.

Draco Malfoy pinched together his thin, aristocratic features, slowly drew in a deep breath, and cast one last reluctant glance at the enigma that was Mudblood Granger. He sulked back to the gloomy Slytherin common room, muttering to himself in frustration. Three times. Three. This was the third time this week that Draco had felt an irrepressible urge to seek her out, to watch her from afar as she conducted utterly mundane tasks. He was as unnerved by the feeling as Granger herself would be if she were aware of this sudden, uncharacteristic desire.

Logically, Draco knew that he hated the Mudblood. Her filthy muggle bloodline alone was enough to make her entirely undeserving, but it was the pathetic way Potter and Weaselby had hung off of her that particularly irked him. The two thick, self-righteous Gryffindors doted on the Granger girl like sickeningly loyal puppies, and seemed incapable of thinking autonomously without her input. She was the singular brain behind nearly all of Potter's heroic endeavours, and for that Draco hated Hermione Granger with a passion. Draco felt a jolt of satisfaction when he considered them leaving without her, probably off somewhere on a noble quest to bring down the Dark Lord. Even for Gryffindors, he mused, abandoning your best friend of six years was thoughtless and cruel; in fact, he had noticed that the Mudblood was throwing herself into her work even more than usual this year, probably to distract herself from the betrayal of her idiotic friends.

Yet, Draco also felt a strange sense of admiration for Granger. He begrudgingly admitted that she was, for a Mudblood, quite intelligent. She was the top of the class in every subject except perhaps Potions, and even that was a result of Snape's blatant favouritism, not that Draco was complaining on that front. Additionally, although he certainly loathed her idiotic sense of Gryffindor bravery, he often found himself remembering the incident from third year where she'd boldly and unapologetically punched him for mocking the bloody oaf of a groundskeeper. Admittedly, he was being a prat, but he was still amazed at her audacity. She, a filthy little Mudblood, dared to lay a hand on the noble heir to the Malfoy fortune. Unbelievable.

Most alarmingly, Draco found himself with a newfound interest in Granger's appearance. Since the beginning of this term, Draco's 7th and final year at Hogwarts, he had begun to notice small things about the Mudblood that he had never picked up before. Her hair was no longer a tangled, frizzy rat's nest accentuated with an unfortunate set of bangs; instead, the plump curls gleamed an appealing shade of copper in the candlelight. Her eyes were not, in fact, a plain mud brown; Draco now saw they were an alluring shade of amber. The oversized teeth he'd once teased now actually looked quite pleasant when tied up into one of her warm smiles. For Merlin's sake, he'd even noticed her smell. Her _smell_.

This was, Draco thought to himself, utterly ridiculous. Suddenly frustrated at his appalling attraction to the disgusting animal, he shoved a stack of parchment and books from his desk, sending the items clattering to the cold flagstone floor of his dormitory. He stared at the ground for a minute, silently watching rivulets of spilt ink run through the cracks in the tiles. She smelled of old books and magnolia.

...

That night, after an unremarkable dinner, Draco arose from his normal seat near the end of the table, feeling an odd need to pace the castle. Vincent and Greg both gave him questioning glances. Draco shot them a solemn glare in return and his cronies dutifully looked away. Slipping through the doors of the Great Hall, Draco began to absentmindedly wander the corridors, his mind drifting from the recent changes in the Hogwarts staff to his father's last letter.

 _I must have lost track of time_ , Draco mused hours later as he sat perched atop the Astronomy Tower, glancing up at the stars in the darkening sky. The moon was just visible over the treetops, a silver sickle low in the sky. Groaning as he pushed himself off the floor, Draco started down the spiral staircase only to be met face to face with the Head Girl, Hermione Granger herself.

Reflexively, he reached out to her shoulder to steady her as she bumped into him. Within a couple seconds, Hermione met his eyes, giving him a look that very clearly insisted he remove said hand promptly. Draco did, feeling a strange sense of reluctance, then immediately chastising himself for touching the Mudblood in the first place.

"What are you doing here after curfew, Malfoy?" she demanded in her usual authoritative tone. Draco clenched his fist tightly, feeling his nails dig slightly into his skin.

"Nothing that concerns you, Mudblood. I was just on my way back to my common room," he replied stiffly. Granger visibly flinched at his language; Draco felt an uncharacteristic tinge of regret. What the hell was wrong with him? Pity for Granger? The stress of the war, Draco decided, must be getting to his head.

"20 points from Slytherin for being out of bed after hours and another 10 for speaking to the Head Girl like that. Now get back to the dungeons," Granger snapped irritably, turning around and beginning to walk away.

"Not so fast, bitch," Draco called from behind her, striding forward and grasping her thin shoulder so tightly she was sure she'd have a bruise tomorrow. "What would the Carrows think of a mudblood like you docking points from Lucius Malfoy's only son and heir? I don't think they'd be happy, see? They might decide to take away your position entirely if they knew you were abusing it like this," Draco smirked.

"You know bloody well that I'm well within my rights as Head Girl to take those points, Malfoy," she shot back, irate.

"I do know that," he smiled back. "But that's not how things work anymore, Granger; no one here is left to save the pathetic little Mudblood. So give me back the damn points and maybe then I'll let you go on your way," Draco snarled, squeezing her shoulder even harder until he was sure the tips of his nails would leave marks on her pale skin.

"I'm not giving them back," she snapped bravely. "What's the point of being Head Girl if I can't enforce the rules? If the Carrows take away my position, so be it. But I refuse to bend the rules for you, Malfoy."

"Hmm, brave little Gryffindor. Don't you know that you'll never beat a snake with something as petty as courage? Remember, I can do more than just lose you your position; I'm sure the Carrows would love some suggestions on which students need disciplined. In fact, I for one believe that Weaselette and Longbottom are negative influences on Gryffindor House. Surely our lovely new staff could make sure they're punished accordingly."

"You're despicable, Malfoy," Granger growled. "Fine, take the damn points; just don't hurt my friends." A moment passed and neither she nor Draco moved. "Well, you got what you wanted; aren't you going back?" Granger demanded.

"You still haven't learned your lesson, Granger," Draco whispered harshly.

"My _lesson_?" she asked, visibly outraged.

"Yes, Mudblood. Someone needs to teach you not to mouth off to your superiors."

"What are you going to do? Take points from my house? You dropped your prefect duties last year, Malfoy-"

Before she could continue berating him, Draco acted without thinking, harshly pushing the Head Girl against the wall of the balcony. Granger froze in fear as he angrily pressed his lips to her mouth, nipping at the bottom corner until he drew blood. Hermione tried shoving him away to no avail; the boy was nearly a foot taller than she and certainly much stronger.

Draco was in ecstasy. Even as Granger fought against him, he found himself pressing closer to her, knotting his hands tightly into her thick, curly hair as his lips descended down her neck. He could feel his heart racing in tandem with the soft pulse of her carotid artery. The supple planes of her body yielded to his touch in a way Draco could only describe as perfection.

Hermione, for her part, was not as enthused. She refused to open her lips to call out while he was kissing her, knowing he would only take that as an invitation. Instead, she waited until he shifted his attention to her neck to scream. And scream she did.

"Malfoy, get the _fuck_ off of me!" she yelled, trying to knee him in a rather uncomfortable location. Draco managed to dodge the manoeuvre, but felt a surge of disappointment as Granger squirmed away.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded, poised to run if Draco made another move towards her. He had no fucking clue what had happened either. Draco had only been planning to hex her; he never meant to kiss the Mudblood. _Deny it,_ his gut instinct told him _. Deny, deny, deny._

"I don't know, Granger. You tell me; it's not my fault you attacked me, you filthy little Mudblood." Hermione gaped at him for a minute.

"What are you talking about, you slimy, lying bastard? Clearly you just kissed me; I obviously didn't want it."

"Granger, you're delusional."

"Merlin, there is no point in even arguing with you, is there? I'm sure you'll just keep denying it. Whatever, I'm going back to my dorm. Just don't bother me again, Malfoy," she growled, all but running back to Gryffindor Tower. Draco stared at her back as she retreated, his mind reeling.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I would just like to apologise for this chapter in advance because Snape and Malfoy are both horrendously OOC. I mean, it's hard to have a Veela fic with Draco in character so I'm giving myself a pass for that, but Snape is honestly just awful. Initially I was kinda trying for the sympathetic godfather vibe, but it's just bad, so sorry for that. I almost just scrapped it and started again, but in the end I just left it, so please forgive me for being really, really lazy! Reviews would be great- thanks so much :)**

 **Chapter 2**

Draco could not sleep. For some reason beyond his explanation, even the dark room seemed too bright for his eyes. The snoring noises emanating from Blaise Zabini's side of the dormitory were abnormally loud; Draco swore he could hear every breath. Even the faint smell of mould that lingered in the Slytherin common room seemed amplified. His senses were off. Clearly, something was wrong.

And then it struck him. It all came back to Mudblood Granger. Obviously the wretched girl had slipped him a love potion, and these were the side effects. It made perfect sense; she was bored and desperate without the Weasel and Saint Potter, but couldn't find anyone willing to suffer her company. So she'd picked Hogwarts' most eligible bachelor, himself, of course, and brewed a potion to slip into his pumpkin juice.

Yes, this explained everything: his fixation with following her, his strange sense of pity, the encounter in the Astronomy Tower. Granger had _poisoned_ him to make him like her. This would not stand.

Draco's first instinct was to go confront her immediately. He was halfway to Gryffindor when he realised that, under the influence of the love potion, approaching Granger may not be the wisest move. No, he would go to see Snape first, and then deal with the Mudblood.

"Mazama rufina," Draco said aloud as he approached the Headmaster's quarters. The eagle statue rotated around when he spoke the password, revealing a spiral staircase leading up to a set of heavy wooden doors.

Draco briefly considered whether he should come back later; it was, after all, the middle of the night. Ultimately, however, he decided that the situation was dire and that his godfather should not mind being woken up for such an urgent matter. Preparing to withstand the annoyance of his well-meaning, if sarcastic, professor, Draco pounded upon the door.

Moments later, Snape appeared, his sallow face set in a grimace. He gave Draco a disapproving look, but said nothing for a tick.

"Headmaster-"

"I'm assuming, Mr. Malfoy, that you have something of great importance to share with me."

"Yes, sir. Professor Snape, Hermione Granger has poisoned me with a love potion. I need an antidote," Draco supplied. Snape beckoned him in, casually summoning up a chair with a quick _accio_.

"What symptoms have you experienced?" the Headmaster asked sceptically. "Drowsiness? Lack of focus? Shortness of breath around the girl?"

"I can't stop thinking about her and I don't know why. It's like I want to ignore her, but there's something that keeps pulling me back. I'm not particularly drowsy, and my focus has been fine. No shortness of breath."

"Mr. Malfoy, are you quite sure you haven't woken me up because of a mere crush on the girl?" Snape smirked. Draco was quick to recoil; he was positive this was no normal attraction.

"No, Headmaster, it's different. My senses are much sharper. Suddenly I'm getting horrible toothaches and back pains. Clearly she's given me something." For an instant, Draco thought he saw a look of alarm shoot across Snape's face before he once again smoothed it over into his normal expression.

"Draco, I'm no medi-wizard, but I'd like to briefly examine your teeth so I can dispel a rather troubling notion," Snape said, suddenly solemn. Draco nodded slowly, bearing his teeth as his former professor approached to inspect them. What he was looking for, the young Malfoy had no idea. "Let me see the gums near your upper canines, Draco," Snape demanded. Draco did and Snape gasped softly.

"Impossible."

"What's impossible, Headmaster?" Draco asked, panicked. "What did she do to me?"

"Miss Granger, you will find, is quite innocent in all of this, Draco. Please remember that, for I fear what I'm about to tell you may not sit well," Snape sighed. Draco looked up at him expectantly. "The rupture in your gums is unique; I've only ever seen it in this circumstance. You'll likely need medical testing for confirmation, Mr. Malfoy, but I believe you may be partially Veela." Draco guffawed.

"Veela? Like that Delacour bint? Professor, are you joking? Clearly I'm neither a girl nor a giant bloody bird!"

"Not all Veela are female, Draco," Snape interjected. "And the transition cannot be completed until a Veela is of age. If I'm correct, the wings will still be growing in." Draco self-consciously reached around to his back, feeling around to see if any wings had emerged. They hadn't, but it would explain the strange tenseness in his shoulders.

"This can't be happening," Draco whispered hoarsely to himself, standing up from the chair and pacing rapidly from one corner of the room to another. "No. No, no, no! I'm a Malfoy, a pureblood from one of the most noble houses in all of wizarding history. I'm a pureblood! How is this possible?" he asked, turning to Snape.

"I'd ask your father; he seems to bear some of the more traditional Veela features, although I'm quite sure the trait itself never manifested itself in him as it has in you. Perhaps one of your great grandparents was a Veela in full? The gene's been known to skip generations."

"What exactly does any of this mean, Severus? And how does Granger fit into it?"

"It means what you make of it, Draco. Hopefully you'll be able to live a normal life, even with this condition. Certain attractive traits will continue to develop; I would expect some increased popularity among groups of women. Obviously, the wings will eventually emerge in full, but these, as I understand, are typically concealable after the first few days. A full Veela's nails sharpen to talons, but considering that you're only a Veela in part, I doubt yours will be very noticeable. Your senses will heighten, clearly that's already happening, and you'll become much stronger. Aside from the physical changes, there's one thing that-"

"I'm not going to like this part, am I?" Draco asked nervously.

"Assuredly not, Mr. Malfoy."

"Just tell me, then."

"All Veela have mates. A person they're destined to love above all else. Without finding and bonding with its mate, a Veela can't live past 18. She's the only person you'll ever find yourself attracted to, the person you'll give anything to protect. If she's happy, you will be too. If she's miserable, you'd kill to fix it. If she dies, you'll perish with her."

"It's... it's Granger, isn't it?" Draco questioned solemnly, already knowing the answer but dreading the confirmation of his suspicions. Snape proceeded with caution.

"That seems likely, Draco," he responded softly.

"Fuck! She hates me, absolutely loathes me, I'm sure of it. How am I going to convince her to save me? Honestly, is it even worth trying? I might be better off just enjoying life before I die," Draco muttered, his mind spinning. Snape quietly spoke up in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

"Draco, don't. Years ago, I made that mistake. I didn't chase after the girl and it remains the biggest regret of my life. Trust me, if Granger comes to mean to you a fraction of what _she_ meant to me, life without her would be a mere shadow of an existence. Try pursuing her; if she truly is your mate, you may find the endeavour easier than anticipated and more rewarding than expected." Draco was somewhat unnerved at seeing this side of his godfather, but nonetheless was emboldened by his suggestion.

"And my father, Severus? What should I tell him? I highly doubt he'd approve of Granger sullying the bloodline."

"Do not inform him of your mate, Draco, or even of the fact that you're more than likely a Veela. Perhaps ask to borrow a book on your family's ancestry to confirm your condition, but to go further, I think, would be dangerous. Although clearly none of this is your fault, I fear Lucius would react poorly if informed of the non-human traits you've displayed. If the public was to uncover that the Malfoy heir is partially Veela, it would call into question the purity of your line. Lucius simply could not bear it." Draco nodded slowly.

"And what of the Dark Lord? I plan on returning to to Manor over the holiday; he'll be there and he'll find out. Clearly, he would never allow anything between me and a mudblood. And if he hurts her, he'll hurt me too."

"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it, Draco. It's only the first week of the term, you have plenty of time before the holidays. Focus on Miss Granger for the time being." Snape's advice gave Draco little solace. He couldn't puzzle out a scenario where he and Granger could escape this situation without enraging the Dark Lord. The thought loomed in his mind and he couldn't quite let it go.

"And, Draco, one more thing," the Headmaster said.

"Yes?"

"Your hair- don't let anyone touch it. I'm sure you've heard of the magical properties of Veela hair. It's quite useful in wand-making, and it's a crucial ingredient in one of the most potent healing potions known to wizards. But if anyone besides you or your mate pulls out a hair, you'll die."

"Great, just another part of being a bloody Veela that could kill me." Snape smiled dryly at his godson, then stood up.

"Now, Draco, you should go back to bed. Get some sleep and think things through. And remember, I'm here if you need me." Draco recognised the dismissal and walked out of the Headmaster's quarters, his life forever changed.

...

The moment Draco returned to his room, he cast a silencing spell then let our a pained, echoing roar. Everything in his life had, within the space of a 30-minute conversation, been turned upside down. Since the earliest stages of his childhood, Draco had learned to feel superior for his birth. Malfoys were purebloods above all else, bound by a sense of tradition and honour. But if he himself was a... _a half-breed,_ was it all a lie? An elaborate façade that kept him and his family elevated above others? It was all too much to consider.

Balling up into what he would vehemently deny was a foetal position, Draco Malfoy sobbed dryly as his world came crashing down around him. The people the Dark Lord was "sanitizing" no longer seemed so distant, so far below him. And this realisation shook him with a deep terror. They were _people_. Just like him. No better, no worse. Just people.

Draco thought back to the years when he'd carelessly tormented not just Granger but also countless trembling Hufflepuffs and speechless Ravenclaws. Not for the weight of their character but for their heritage. He'd called them mudbloods, thought them unclean, inhuman even. All the time unknowing that he himself was the half-breed.

Trembling in grief, Draco barely noticed as a wide-eyed house elf approached him until the creature tugged gently on his sleeve. He bit back a reflexive comment, something about sullying his robe. Clearly, he was no longer one to judge. Instead, Draco just lifted his head slightly, quickly wiping the tear tracks streaming down his face in an effort to mask his shame. Yet the creature looked upon him with no judgement.

"Topsy knows that stealing is wrong, Sir, but he thought he would bring Sir a token from Sir's mate. Topsy thinks it might bring Master Malfoy solace, Sir," the house elf wheezed, offering Draco a cream coloured Muggle sweater. Slowly Draco grasped the garment in his tremulous hands, clutching it close to his chest and breathing in deeply.

Instantaneously, a soothing calm washed over Draco's entire body and a quiet force pulled his mind gently away from his disturbing thoughts. As he uncurled under the heavy weight of his duvet, Draco Malfoy finally fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Draco Malfoy was not in class the next morning. Hermione took it as a personal affront. She was just positive that he was skipping lessons to show her up. Well, if he thought himself somehow immune to the rules of Hogwarts just because he'd threatened and scared her last night, Malfoy was in for a rude awakening.

After Professor Binns finished passing around the syllabus for the year and dismissed class, Hermione quickly made her way to the dungeons, fully intending to give him as long and painful a lecture as possible. Yet as she made her way through the dark corridor, she felt a malevolent presence glaring at her from ahead. Attempting to quietly continue on, Hermione kept her head down and her eyes trained on the floor. Her tactics, unfortunately, did not succeed.

"And what's a Gryffindor tramp like you doing all the way down in the dungeons?" a grisly, wheedling voice asked. Hermione looked up to see the man she recognised as Amycus Carrow, Hogwarts' newest Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Shuddering, she remembered hearing rumours of the man from first years who had already sat through one of his lessons. He was undeniably there to implement Voldemort's policies. Knowing he would look for any excuse whatsoever to punish her, Hermione attempted to remain polite.

"Professor, I don't believe we've met. I'm Hermione Granger, the Head Girl. I was actually heading to the Slytherin dormitory to check on Draco Malfoy. He wasn't in class this morning, and Ms. Pomfrey hadn't seen him either. As Head Girl, it's my responsibility to make sure Mr. Malfoy isn't skipping instruction without reason," she responded primly.

"Oh, I've heard of you!" Amycus chuckled darkly. "You're Potter's little lap-dog, aren't you, Mud-slut?" Breathing in deeply, Hermione forced herself to remain silent.

"But even Potter and his blood traitor friend couldn't sully themselves with your filthy presence, could they, Miss Granger? They left you here and ran like the pathetic cowards they are." In an attempt at restraint, Hermione dug her nails deeply into her forearms, clutching at them until they bled. _Focus on the pain. Use logic, Hermione. You're not going to punch your professor, even if he's a colossal dick._ Amycus looked down to her arms, noticing the small cuts where blood was welling up.

"You'd dare expose your dirty blood to me, you little bitch? 50 points from Gryffindor, and I better not see you anywhere near Slytherin again. Can't have the school's best and brightest exposed to such scum, can we, Mudblood?" Deep down, Hermione knew that no good would come out of arguing. She knew it would only end out making her more miserable and that she would probably regret it later. That didn't stop her.

"That's rich coming from you, you inbred, ass-kissing, ignorant bastard! I'm likely twice as intelligent as you and your sister combined, and yet you still call me Mudblood and claim to be somehow superior. As if I'm somehow less than you. As if I'm subhuman. You know who's subhuman? Voldemort. Have you seen-" Hermione was cut off by a swift punch to the gut. It _burned_.

"Naughty, naughty, Mud-slut," Amycus crooned in a sing-song voice. Hermione felt her stomach turn. She wanted to run. But she was trapped and Amycus showed no signs of relenting in his slow, measured steps toward her.

"It's unbelievable, you using his name like that; you must know that you'll be punished, right?" Hermione continued backing up for every pace he took.

"Obviously, we can't have anyone so disrespectful serving as Head Girl. Your duties are henceforth suspended; Hogwarts will have to find someone more suitable for the position. Pansy Parkinson, perhaps? I hear she's the model pureblood lady," Amycus mused, delighted.

"Professor Carrow, please, I meant no harm," Hermione stuttered, more concerned with her safety at the moment than trying to salvage her position. She tightly gripped her wand, ready to shoot out a rather dark curse if he made any sudden moves. In the first stroke of luck she'd had all day, however, the ogre of a man seemed to relent.

"I doubt that, Miss Granger, but we'll see to it that you learn your lesson. Detention. My office in two days." And then Amycus Carrow swept away, leaving a terrified, humiliated, and enraged Hermione Granger backed against the mossy dungeon wall.

...

Draco Malfoy woke with a start. _Something's_ _wrong_. He just knew it. Barely taking the time to pull on a robe, he sprinted out of his room through the corridor, nearly knocking over a smirking Professor Carrow on the way.

"In a rush, Mr. Malfoy?" asked the new DADA professor. Draco reluctantly stopped and nodded.

"Well, you mustn't worry. I just stopped Potter's Mudblood from coming down to berate you. Was able to provoke her and everything; she's no longer Head Girl, and she'll be serving detention with me soon," Amycus smiled proudly. Draco felt his heart drop. He held back a foreign urge to back Carrow against the wall at wand-point and demand to know if Granger was alright. Instead, he felt himself nod again and slowly continue on his way, wary of Carrow's eyes following him down the hall.

He could smell her before he reached her. Granger's scent was divine, and it was ten times stronger in person than it was on that flimsy cardigan. How had he not noticed before? Draco was reluctant to round the corner. He was fairly certain that he was the last person she wanted to see, and he could sense that she was already upset. Nevertheless, Draco simply _needed_ to comfort her or at least try.

Nervously, he combed through his hair, cast a quick breath-freshening charm, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his robes in an attempt to look casual. Gulping deeply in anticipation, Draco strode into Granger's sight.

...

Of all the people to happen upon this particular morning, the last Hermione wanted to see was Draco Malfoy. After Professor Carrow had left, she'd barely moved from the spot, only shifting slightly to huddle up into a ball in the dank corner of the corridor.

"What do you want, Malfoy? I was already stripped of my position this morning, so you've won. Please, just leave." Malfoy cleared his throat awkwardly, then began to crouch down beside her. Alarmed, Hermione tried to scoot away, but found herself too tired to make much of an attempt.

"Carrow didn't take away your Head Girl privileges because of me, Granger. I had nothing to do with that," he started in a surprisingly kind tone. Hermione looked up, expecting a crude Mudblood joke any minute. Oddly enough, none came.

"But clearly that's not all that's got you upset. What happened?" he pushed. Hermione certainly wasn't about to open up.

"Obviously you're only asking so you can tease me about it later, Malfoy, or even replicate it yourself," she spat. Draco visually recoiled. "Oh, please just drop the act and go find someone worthy of your time," Hermione demanded sarcastically.

"What if I told you, Granger, that I'd had a realisation?" he asked smoothly.

"Then I'd tell you that you're full of shit." He gave out a short chuckle.

"I guess I'll have to show you otherwise," Draco whispered, pressing his lips lightly against hers in a perfect, innocent kiss. Not stopping to consider her own reaction, Hermione closed her eyes and sighed softly as he gently ran his fingers across her collarbone in what she could almost picture was a fond touch. And then, as quickly as he'd came, Draco Malfoy disappeared.

Hermione couldn't see it, but he smiled as he heard her getting up and walking in the other direction, glad he had at least succeeded in taking her mind off Professor Carrow.

...

When Hermione reached the Gryffindor common room, she was immediately bombarded by a flurry of underclassmen, all concerned about the Carrows and looking to the Head Girl for leadership. Hermione uncomfortably explained how she had been stripped of her position. The entire room fell open-mouthed. Finally, Neville Longbottom spoke up.

"That's unbelievable, Hermione. Everyone here knows you deserve to be Head Girl," he offered.

"It's fine, Neville," she responded, even through it really wasn't. "At least no one's been hurt." The _yet_ went unspoken.

"No, Hermione, it's not okay," Neville spoke again, this time in a louder voice. "We shouldn't have to take this, but I think we all know this year is going to be hell. The Carrows are out to get us; that's a fact. I say we fight back. Clearly I'm not the most qualified teacher," he said, giving a pointed look toward Hermione, "but I reckon it's high time we restart Dumbledore's Army." A cheer went up from the crowd and suddenly the whole room was roaring in support.

Hermione linked arms with Neville and Ginny. Maybe they could weather through this year after all.


End file.
